Confession
by Christine Anthemum
Summary: Hawke finds comfort in the confessional.
1. Part 1

**This has been done a few times before, but as I was suffering from writer's block on my other stories, I decided to post it since I have nothing else for my readers and this story was just sitting uselessly in my documents.**

 **There are five parts, and each of them are rather small.**

 **I hope you enjoy and leave me a review.**

* * *

He remembered her return after the Deep Roads.

He'd been staying there, still searching for his family's murderers, when after several weeks of their absence, on day he found her in the Chantry.

Her light brown hair was easily recognizable to him, and no one dressed like she did.

She was hunched over, her hands clasped in prayer, her head bowed.

As he came closer, he saw her shoulders were shaking.

She was crying.

"Hawke?" He asked.

She looked up at him in surprise. "Sebastian?"

"What happened?" He asked her. "What's wrong?"

Her pretty face crumpled in pain. "I... I lost him."

"Lost who?"

"Carver. I lost Carver," she admitted quietly. "It's my fault, I shouldn't have brought him. He caught the Blight sickness."

Sebastian sat down beside her. "Is he dead?"

Fortunately, Hawke shook her head. "No. The Wardens took him."

"Then you have much to be thankful for," he soothed her, putting an arm around her.

It was like the dam broke. She buried her face into his chest and sobbed her heart out. "But I was doing it for him as much as for mother. I wanted to give him a better life than a lowtown thug. I wanted him to be happy, and now he's miserable, and mother blames me!"

He held her as she cried. "It's not your fault," he consoled her. "He chose to join you. You couldn't know what happened. And at least he survived."

Eventually, she quieted, exhausted, and went limp in his arms.

She'd fallen asleep.

He chuckled quitely to himself as he lifted her into his arms and carried her back into his rooms. It wouldn't hurt to miss a few hours of sleep. He didn't want to wake her; she was obviously worn out. He couldn't carry her all the way back to Lowtown. There was no harm in letting her sleep for a few hours.

He pulled his blankets up around her sleeping form, and let her rest. At least for the moment.


	2. Part 2

That was not the last time he encountered her in the Chantry.

He was sitting in the confessional when it happened, waiting for the next sinner to enter and tell the Maker of their sin. The door that he couldn't see shuttered open and he heard the shuffling of the person on the other side. They took a moment to situate themselves on the bench before speaking in a quiet whisper of a female's voice.

"O Maker, hear my cry. I have sinned in Your sight, and ask that I be forgiven for my transgressions." Her voice was just loud enough for him to understand. He thought he might recognize the sound, but he couldn't be sure. "It has been several months since my last confession."

"The Maker will hear your confession, and your soul will once again be clean in His sight," he whispered back. With his voice kept low, it was easier to keep his Starkhaven brogue from notice.

He heard the guilty woman clear her throat. "I... I'm a killer. I've killed many people, as a mercenary. I needed the money; my family and I are Ferelden refugees. The only jobs available that would make enough money to support us were the mercenary job and an opening at the Blooming Rose, and I feared the latter."

Sebastian took a sharp intake of breathe. He had no idea how many women had taken jobs there just to make ends meet. Was it selfish of him to be glad that this woman had had another option, even if becoming a prostitute would have saved lives?

"It was my job to take care of my mother and brother," she continued. "My sister died during the Blight. I blame myself for it sometimes."

Only then did he realize it was her. "It's not your fault, I'm sure," he insisted. "Blaming yourself for what you cannot change does nothing but harm."

"I suppose you're right," she admitted. He heard the wooden bench creak as she shifted. "Not long ago, I went on an expedition into the Deep Roads. It was the last mission I had to do before I could buy mama her house back, and I took my brother with me. He got sick a week in. We knew we couldn't make the surface in time, but there was another option. Instead of letting him die, I handed him over to the Grey Wardens."

He remembered the night she'd come to him about this. "You saved his life," he told her.

"I shouldn't have brought him with me."

"You couldn't have known what would happen."

She sighed. "Mother was so upset."

Sebastian remained quiet, waiting for her to proceed.

"Sometimes I don't know why I do what I do. Everyone treats me so rudely... well, everyone except some of my friends. Sometimes, especially my friends."

"That's why they're your friends, right?" He teased lightly.

She chuckled. "Yes, that and they're the best fighters in the Free Marches."

He laughed quietly himself before stopping himself. He didn't want her to recognize his voice.

"Some of my friends are so difficult I don't know how to deal with them."

He found himself leaning closer to the screen separating them. "Oh? How so?"

She hesitated. "Well... a friend of mine... he's an apostate."

Anders, Sebastian thought bitterly.

"But I can't turn him in; he saved my brother, and he's a good man, a healer... Is it... is it wrong that I won't turn him in?"

Sebastian mulled over this for a moment. "... Your situation is a unique one. Personally, I believe since he saved your brother that the Maker would forgive your acceptance of him."

"Th-thank you, serrah," she stuttered.

"Is that all you came to confess today?"

Once again, she hesitated. Sebastian held his breath.

"Yes, serrah. That was all I wished to confess."

Sebastian didn't think she was telling the truth, but there was nothing he could do. "Very well. Go forth and sin no more."

"But-" she started, sounding confused.

He cut her off. "I don't believe you've done anything truly wrong. Nothing I've heard do you have to make up for."

She paused, considering his words. She stood up, the bench giving an aggravated groan. "Thank you."

And she disappeared out the door.

When she was safely away, Sebastian fled the confessional. Had she known it was him listening to her?

He never knew Hawke believed in the Chantry teachings, let alone that she confessed her sins on a regular basis.

He hoped that wouldn't be the last time he saw (or heard) her here.


	3. Part 3

The second time she came to him in the confessional, he recognized her instantly.

The door opened quietly and she gracefully slid inside, shutting it behind her. He could smell the faint smell of her soap, a mix of oranges and spice as the air stirred.

"O Maker, hear my cry. I have sinned in Your sight, and ask that I be forgiven for my transgressions."

Her voice was louder now. He could catch her slight Ferelden accent as she spoke.

He took no chances, still choosing to whisper. "The Maker will hear your confession, and your soul will once again be clean in His sight."

"I have killed once again," she admitted. "I found a blood mage, hiding with a woman he'd kidnapped. I tried to get information out of him, but I pushed to hard and killed him."

Ah. Gascard, he remembered. The slimy little man with the orange-brown hair and Orlesian accent. He had been there with her while she tried to torture information out of him.

Truly, after what he had done, Sebastian believed the Maleficar deserved what he got.

"As the Chant says, Maleficarum are accursed ones. The faithful are to allow them no rest, in this world or beyond."

Hawke sighed, shifting uncomfortably. "I tortured him."

He inhaled, pausing, pretending to be surprised. "I... see."

"I didn't really want to," she insisted. "He knew about the murders of the women, I just know it. He wouldn't tell me, and he angered one of my friends. He accidentally killed him."

The friend she spoke of was Fenris. Sebastian remembered the strange power the elf had displayed in that house, shoving his fist through the mage's chest. He shuddered at the memory. What she said wasn't exactly true; What Fenris had done was no accident. Gascard had indeed angered Fenris when he spat on the former slave's face. It was over before he could even blink.

"Ah," he breathed. "Torture is a terrible thing, but so are the murders of those women."

"I wanted to get him to tell us who his partner, or master, or whatever, was. And I couldn't." Sebastian could hear the frustration in her voice. He could imagine her on the other side of the screen, running stressed fingers through her hair as she always did when she became agitated. "What penance must be paid for this crime?"

Sebastian sighed. "Again, this situation is a unique one. I suppose then you should pay charity, either to the Chantry who will in turn give it to the needy, or to the Fereldan refugees. Go forth and sin no more."

"Yes, serrah. Thank you." And she was gone again.


	4. Part 4

The third time she came to him there, she was crying.

"O Maker," she sobbed. It took her a moment to speak again. "Hear my cry."

"What happened?" He asked.

"My mother," she whispered. "She died. She died because I was too impatient and cruel."

"Slow down now," he told her. "Tell me what happened."

"My mother was killed," she cried. "She was killed by a Maleficar. A necromancer. The man I tortured could have saved her, but I was a fool and killed him. It's all my fault."

Then she cried so much he wanted to reach through the screen and pull her into his arms, telling her it would be all right. It was obvious that she knew he was the same one who heard her confession before.

"Dear lady," he soothed. "No. Your mother would not want you to blame yourself like this."

She laughed humorlessly. "You don't know my mother."

But he did. Lady Leandra was an Andrastian; she came to the Kirkwall Chantry often. Not only that, but Hawke had invited her friends over to her estate many times. Leandra had always had a look of silent pride when she looked at her daughter. Like she was more than Leandra hoped she would be.

"Your mother loved you," he insisted. "She is at the Maker's side now. She is at peace. You should be, too."

She said nothing for a long time, still quietly crying. "Thank you, messere."

"Maker bless you," he whispered. "May He always guide you."

He saw her nod, and heard the door open and shut. She was gone.

That night, he surprised her by showing up at her estate with a dozen cookies.

"Sebastian," she breathed in surprise. "Thank you. They're lovely, but... why?"

He just smiled. "I know how it feels to lose both parents." He laid a hand on her shoulder. "You are not alone. If you ever need anything, I am here, Hawke."

She threw her arms around him.

He laughed and hugged her back. If this was the way she'd react, he'd make her cookies anytime.


	5. Part 5

**Final part.**

* * *

About a week later, she came to him once more.

"O Maker, hear my cry. I have sinned in Your sight, and ask that I be forgiven for my transgressions."

"The Maker will hear your confession, and your soul will once again be clean in His sight." He responded, as always.

"I'm..." she paused. "I'm not quite sure how to say this..."

"Take your time," he encouraged. "Tell me when you are ready."

She swallowed audibly, then sighed. "I am experiencing... lust. For a man."

The sudden burst of jealousy that shot through him then took him by surprise. Hawke was not his, by any means. They were friends. He had no claim on her.

He wondered who it was. Was it Anders? Hopefully she had better taste than that. Fenris? He didn't seem like her type. Varric? Couldn't be...

She was going on. "He's a companion of mine, a dear friend. He follows me into battle, protects my back. But... I have felt more than friendship for him, for a long time. I thought it was just childish infatuation, but it has been years."

Sebastian clenched his fists. He was determined to find out who this man was, even if it hurt to hear it.

"Why have you not told the person you've experienced these feelings for?" He asked, trying his hardest to sound neutral.

He heard her sigh. "I... I supposed I am a coward. It would hurt him, I know, to know how I feel about him. He could never feel the same way about me."

He felt anger rise in his chest at her words. Who could meet Hawke and not adore her?

Hawke was a beautiful woman. She had lovely eyes, a heart-shaped face, and her body was lean and curvaceous. She wasn't as hard of a fighter as her other companions, being a mage herself, so she was softer, more feminine. She was utterly gorgeous.

Any man in the city would die to catch her attention, he was certain.

"Why do you think that?"

She paused for a moment. "Because he... because he's a brother in the Chantry."

His breath stopped.

No. He hadn't just heard that. He'd heard wrong.

"He has sworn vows to the Maker, and he will never think of me the way I think of him. I can't compare to the Maker. But somehow... he makes me want to try."

Sebastian almost swallowed his tongue.

"And I hate myself for it," she whispered. "I can't do this. Not to him, not to myself. But I don't want to let go of my hope that one day, he'll see how I feel, and love me in return.

Sebastian bit down on his hand to keep from making a sound.

Hawke... the woman he'd followed, cared for, laughed with, fought with, believed in... loved him.

"I more than lust for him, messere," she admitted quitely. "I love him. I love him more than anything. And I don't know what to do anymore."

Sebastian worked to control his breathing.

Inside, his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts.

Her every smile flashed in his memory. The way she joked with him. The way she smiled at him.

He couldn't believe he hadn't seen it sooner.

"Even if he did care for me in the slightest, I know I'd lose him," she told him. "I lose everything I care about. I don't deserve him."

Never had he wanted to open the screen more, to reveal himself and tell her that she was more special, more beautiful, more courageous than anyone he'd ever met. That he could never deserve her, no matter how hard he tried. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and kiss her until neither of them could think.

"Please grant me some advice," she pleaded. "Guidance, anything."

For several long moments, he couldn't speak.

"When one experiences the sin of lust," he finally managed to say, "Their penance is to confront the object of their desires and admit that lust to them."

"He'll hate m-"

But he'd already opened the screen between them, revealing himself to her.

She leaped to her feet, but he caught her hand before she could leave.

"Elisabeth," he said. "I have lusted for you. I pray you can forgive me."

She gaped at him for several moments.

Then her face broke into a breathtaking smile, and she threw her arms around him. "I love you, Sebastian," she told him. "I love you."

Sebastian pressed kisses to her hair, her forehead, her cheeks, her eyelids, everywhere he could reach. "I love you, too."

* * *

 **Thank you for reading.**

 **~Chris**


End file.
